


Inspiration

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: In which figure drawing goes decidedly pear-shaped.





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteriousBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousBean/gifts).

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> So I was hit with an idea for Promptis and figure drawing classes. And then the writing muse up and vanished. And then a very talented artist tossed some inspiration my way, and this unrelated random thing was born. Many thanks for brightening my evening with your work, MysteriousBean :)

"What'cha doin', good lookin'?"

He's so busy frowning at the blank paper, he doesn't notice Noctis's approach until he's _right there _on the other side of his easel, all casual grace and bare torso and wicked smirk. For a moment there is silence between them, a small bubble of solitude and _peace_, before his brain catches up with the shocked flapping of his jaw and he snaps his mouth shut, glancing around in suspicion. Sure enough, the class is gone. Departed. Long since vanished. He and Noctis are _alone_.

He much rather fancies his chances facing a behemoth with nothing to his name but a baseball bat and a couple of nails jammed in the end of it. At least the big beastie would gobble him up in one go. _Noctis _on the other hand -

Is a goddamn hazard to his heart and sanity and libido, apparently. Which makes figure drawing class seven hells of awkward and _wildly inappropriate_.

"Insomnia calling Prompto, do you copy in there?" A hand waved in front of his face and he _doesn't squeak_, no, he lets out a manly yelp, throwing himself back in reflex and pinwheeling his arms because oh, yes, _he's sitting on a fucking stool _and clearly the gods find hilarity at his expense. But he's rescued from an impromptu meeting with the floor when Noctis grabs hold of an arm and jams a foot against the stool to stop it wheeling right out from under him, and he's suspended like that for a moment, caught between gravity and a strength so at odds with Noct's deceptively slim build.

_A lean, mean, fighting machine._

"Uhm," he says, quite eloquently, because his brain has gone and thrown itself out the window and his sanity curdles somewhere in Ifrit's fiery lair, gets his feet back on solid ground and rights himself in his seat and slowly, cautiously, pulls his arm from Noct's grip. Like one might slowly tease meat from a coeurl's teeth. All the while, Noctis smirks at him. Sneaky, smug fucker. What had he originally asked again? Oh right.

"I was _trying_ to draw you, asshole, but it just isn't happening today."

"Am I really so hideous as to inspire nothing but a blank page? The horror!" Prompto jabs his pencil as if to stab Noctis with it, only to pause mid-motion when he... _drapes _himself over the easel, arm hitched atop it and cheek cushioned on his forearm, fingers spread over paper and tracing invisible patterns on it. He peers at Prompto with one storm-blue eye, expression almost... _playful_ and _how the fuck did his life come to this point?_

"... What are you doing?" He asks, almost calm, voice level, betraying nothing of his inner crisis. To stay or flee, stay or flee, just how awkward can this situation get?

"Being _inspirational? _I can go throw myself over the desk like a damsel in distr-"

_"Stop. Talking."_

And he sets his pencil aside (ever careful of his supplies), calmly gets to his feet and sidesteps the easel, and, when Noctis straightens up to meet him, slides his hand round the back of his neck and yanks him in for a kiss. Just to shut him up. Really.

* * *

"And _that's _how I started dating the Prince of Lucis, before I knew he was the Prince. And about three weeks after that we were making out in the supply closet."

_"Prompto!" _ Noctis even kicks him under the table for good measure, but he just smiles, all sweetness and sunshine. His long-awaited payback _for that very day._

Nyx and Crowe stare at them for a long, long moment in absolute _silence_, so much so that Noctis starts squirming, and then Nyx whistles, both eyebrows migrating towards his hairline.

"You've landed yourself a firecracker, Highness, good luck."

Crowe, though... she just laughs and reaches over to ruffle Prompto's hair. "Welcome to the Glaive, kid."


End file.
